


Black and Blue

by kurokonekokilled



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Nnoitra, Birthday Celebrations, Blowjobs, Complete, D/s themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Grimm and Nnoi are also little shits, Light Size Kink, Light daddy kink, M/M, Nnoi has a Daddy kink in everything I write, Non-Sexual Sleeping Together, Shinji is a little shit, Shiro is an even bigger little shit, TA Grimmjow, Teacher Nnoitra, Teachers AU, drunk Grimmjow, violin prodigy Grimmjow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 05:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokonekokilled/pseuds/kurokonekokilled
Summary: High school teachers AU. Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez is a world renowned violin prodigy at age 20. After doing a world tour and releasing a solo album, he goes to be an assistant teacher in America. There he meets his new boss, Nnoitra Gilga, and he really can't decide whether he wants to get on his knees for the man or strangle him to death. They get to know each other and Nnoitra gives Grimmjow a really good birthday present.





	Black and Blue

Nnoitra scowled at himself as he stalked through the familiar hallways of Karakura First High School. He should’ve known better than to get massively drunk the night before the first day of the new semester, but it had just seemed like a good idea last night, especially with Yoruichi on his ass the whole time.

At least with the seniors, he got to play some actual music instead of teaching basics over and over and over until he wanted to blow his fucking brains out onto the high, vaulted ceilings. He was just glad that they’d finally officially hired a TA for him.

So, with that thought sparking a little bit of hope in his chest, he shouldered his way into the art hallway, rolling his eye amusedly at the harsh sounds of swordplay already echoing from the theatre. This next show was looking like it’d be a lot of fun.

The tall man reached for his keys reflexively before noticing the light already spilling from the windows of the music classroom, accompanied by the sound of a violin singing through the morning air. He was more of a piano man, himself, but he had always found the piercing way the notes would shimmer in the air quite enthralling.

He balanced his coffee and his folders in one hand, pulling the old, heavy door open so he could slip inside silently. The music floating through the air made him want to have a minute or two to observe his new coworker, and then he could get the pleasantries out of the way and decide if he liked the new guy. All he knew so far was that the kid was _young_ , like not even drinking age young, was a self taught prodigy, and had an ego that was - according to the pottery instructor - only rivaled by his temper.

So, worryingly similar to Nnoitra himself. Either they’d get along like wildfire, or they’d be at each other’s throats. The older man was willing to hazard a guess that there were already betting pools being set up.

All of his thoughts fled the second he rounded the corner, though. The man’s back was to him, broad shoulders settled languidly as his body swayed slightly in time to the music. He certainly looked like the kid he was; blue hair, _really_? And the leather jacket draped over Nnoitra’s chair must belong to him too. He was wearing a ratty white t-shirt and black skinny jeans that hugged a firm ass and muscled thighs in all the right ways, tucked into a pair of torn up hi-tops. And yeah, maybe Nnoitra shouldn’t be checking out his new TA, but a peek or two - and maybe a few fantasies - never hurt anybody.

He allowed himself a few more seconds to watch the kid swaying almost drunkenly to the haunting melody filling the air before strolling casually over to his desk and setting his folders down with a loud thud. Surprise flickered over him for a moment when the kid jumped slightly and blue eyes slitted open to glare hatefully at him, but the music didn’t stop for a second. He just leaned back against his desk and sipped his coffee, watching and waiting for the song to finish.

Finally, a long, trembling note rang out, and the bow dropped to the kid’s side. He turned to face Nnoitra, still sipping his coffee and blatantly staring. A wide smile was stretched over the teacher’s face, long tongue dipping out to catch a stray drop of coffee clinging to his lips.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” the blue-haired kid snapped at him, tucking his instrument back into the case at his feet.

Nnoitra just grinned wider and let his gaze pointedly travel over the shorter man. Not that he was short, by any means. He was probably 185 centimetres or more of pure lithe muscle, with all the grace and poise of a stalking panther. It’s just that Nnoitra was 215 centimetres, and while he had a wiry build, he was absolutely certain he could take the little fucker down in a head on fight.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to start playing with things before you even meet the guy who owns them?” Nnoitra sneered back. They were technically the school’s, not his, but his point still stood.

All he got in response was an annoyed little click of the tongue, the kid turning to place the violin back on the shelf with the others. Yeah, those pants clung to _everything_ , and Nnoitra was definitely not complaining.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked, setting his coffee down and turning to hunch over his desk so he could log into his computer. He knew, but he figured it’d be polite to ask anyway, and maybe not treat the kid like a celebrity.

The man turned after replacing the violin, and his snarl at being called kid froze on his face. The teacher was bent over his desk, his dark jeans so tight they looked like they were painted on, the charcoal gray button down being quickly tucked in by deft fingers. The man straightened and turned back to him, and he tried his best to bite down the blush rising on his cheeks. It wasn’t his fault that the guy was practically sex on legs, talking to him in that condescending tone and growly voice.

Sure, he was bony, but there was a terrifying amount of strength thrumming under all that pale skin. And he’d always had a thing for the whole ‘condescending teacher’ bit. As a thin eyebrow was raised at him, he remembered the question.

“Uh, Grimmjow,” he said, adding, “Jaegerjaquez,” a second later.

The tall man hummed down at him, starting towards a jumble of cords and beginning to untangle them as he spoke.

“Nnoitra Gilga,” he told the kid. “I’m gonna call you Grimm or kid most of the time probably,” he stated, ignoring the glare he got. “You can call me Nnoi, or teach, or asshole. I’ll respond to damn near anything.”

Grimmjow grimaced at the use of his preferred nickname, but let it slide when he heard the classroom door creak open. Nnoitra turned away from him with a kinder smile and made his way over to a shelf at the far end of the room.

“Catch, Rose,” he called out, practically launching an instrument at the blond boy who’d just rounded the corner.

Grimmjow watched glittering silver fly through the air with a cringe, expecting to hear metal clattering and probably a confused shriek. Surprisingly, the boy - Rose - caught it with practiced ease, taking a moment to inspect it before bringing it to his lips. It was a small flute, probably nothing all that special, but when combined with the elegant slope of the blond’s shoulders, the long flowing curls, and the odd clothes that looked sort of like they’d been ripped out of the seventeenth century, it looked almost regal.

A few shrieking notes pierced the air, Grimmjow almost wanting to cover his ears as he looked over at the teacher in confusion. It only deepened when he saw the smug grin stretched over thin lips. Nnoitra caught his eye and just nodded back at Rose.

He looked back and found that the boy’s eyes were closed, his body loose, and his long fingers were starting to dance along the thin tube. Shockingly, in the next moment, those shrieking sounds stopped, and several notes followed in soothing succession before an off note sounded, quickly cut off as the boy started again.

Grimmjow watched in fascination as the boy stumbled his way back and forth until he managed to play about thirty seconds without messing anything up. It was obvious he was learning the instrument on the spot, and honestly, Grimmjow hadn’t ever met anyone besides himself that could do that.

The little flute was lowered and the blond shot his teacher a fierce grin before tossing the flute back to him.

“Marche Slave, OP. 31?” Grimmjow asked. It was one of his favorite pieces, but he’d never heard it done on a flute before. The sound was more tinny, more high pitched, but still hauntingly beautiful.

Rose seemed to finally notice him, and he inclined his head respectfully, the grin turning to a polite smile, but Nnoitra cut him off before he could answer.

“It works on almost every instrument, so it’s what I have him play whenever he tries something new,” the taller man explained gruffly, a hint of pride coloring his voice. He turned back to his student. “Flute and piano this semester? Everyone’s learning violin basics at least, since we’ve got the kid prodigy.”

Rose nodded, not noticing the way Grimmjow bristled at the reference to him, or the wink Nnoitra sent his new TA at the kid’s scowl.

Nnoitra turned back to his computer, humming Marche Slave to himself lowly as he started printing things for the lesson today. Grimmjow faced the student, clearly there quite early, who was dropping his bag on the floor and pulling a pillow out of a pile so he could plop down on it, right in the middle of the floor. A shrug was all Grimmjow allowed himself; there weren’t any chairs in the room except for two at the front of the room. Maybe all the kids sat on the floor so that chairs wouldn’t get in the way of movement?

“Hey, Rose, right?” Grimmjow asked, smiling down as nicely as he could manage.

The blond head shot up, a smile on kind features as he nodded, then shook his head and laughed.

“It’s actually Rōjūrō, but everyone calls me Rose,” he answered shyly.

“Grimmjow, you can call me Grimm, though.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never met anyone else who could learn an instrument on the spot like that,” he confessed, assuming the kid knew who he was, what with that annoying fucker’s statements about him being a kid prodigy or whatever.

“Oh, this is the advanced version of the advanced class, so Nnoi makes us learn the same way he learns,” Rose laughed, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

Grimmjow laughed along with him.

“Double advanced, huh?” he queried. So they had to be good; this was an arts school - you had to audition to get in - and it was also the _best_ arts school, rivalling even the local colleges. The competitive teams at this school went to compete internationally at least once a year, oftentimes two or three times. “How many of you are there?”

Rose tapped his finger against his chin thoughtfully, and Grimmjow had to notice how long the kid’s fingers were. He was made for classical music.

“Well, there’s Yumichika - he plays harp, Shinji on saxophone, Rangiku on guitar, Byakuya on bass, Ishida on cello, and Shiro on drums. We also all have perform in a jazz band for local charities and stuff. But basically, we have six, seven including myself, and nine including the two of you.” Before Grimmjow managed to ask, Rose continued, “Nnoi plays everything, but he’s partial to the piano.”

Grimmjow could see that, the tall man hunched over the keys of a piano much like he was hunched over his desk now. Before he could continue his conversation, he was called away by the man himself.

“Grimm, c’mere,” came the absent command.

Blue eyes rolled and he didn’t hold back a snarl, but he made his way over and leaned his hip against the side of the desk.

“I’ll do introductions when everyone’s here, Shiro’ll be late, but we can start without him. Either way, I want you to play for them after all that’s done.”

He swivelled around in his chair and Grimmjow jolted for a second when he realized that all that black hair was pulled back into a lazy bun, a swath of hair falling forward towards his cheekbone. But it was the white eyepatch that caught his gaze for a moment before he processed what had been said to him.

“I’m not a jukebox,” he growled lowly, not really wanting Rose, or whoever had just pushed their way into the classroom, to hear.

“No, you’re a genius,” Nnoitra shot back at him, and grinned at the jolt of confusion that went through his assistant. “Listen, I want my kids to get the best they can. You’re a god with a violin, I want them to see that.” He let his words sink in, watched the shock at the blunt compliments sink into those blue eyes. “Besides, they’ll eat you alive if you don’t give them a reason to respect you. ‘Specially Shiro.”

Grimmjow just nodded numbly, his brows drawn together in confusion. This man was a fucking enigma; he acted like these students were really his kids, pushing out of his chair to grab one of them around the neck, knuckles grinding into short blond hair and laughing when he got an elbow to the gut. The fuck was going on? He kept pissing him off - calling him a kid, acting like he was all big and bad - and then proceeding to compliment him like that. _A god with a violin_ , seriously?

“Oi, alright brats,” Nnoitra’s voice cut through his internal musings. “Got a new TA, so don’t be assholes until he gets used to you.”

The man shot a wide grin back at the blue-haired boy still leaning against his desk, brows still furrowed in confusion, even as amusement lit his eyes.

“This is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,” he introduced, pleased with the shocked glances shot towards the man. “Yeah, I know, young. No, you’re not allowed to hit on him, Ran.”

More shock crossed Grimmjow’s face. Literally what the fuck was going on? And why was the strawberry blond now pouting and complaining at her teacher, saying something about him being too cute to pass up?

“Anyway, Grimm, class. Class, Grimm.” A large hand waved lazily, then turned to point at each student in turn. “You’ve already met Rose, he won’t give you any trouble. He likes to float around and doesn't really have a set instrument, but he's great on anything with keys. Yumi’s our harpist, he likes pretty things, so you should be safe,” he said with a teasing grin, laughing as Grimmjow blustered. The boy in question had short black hair, sharp features, and feathers in his eyelashes, and was giving him a glance over before waving lazily.

“Shin’s a little brat, but he’s a good player, he’s-”

The short blond cut him off with a shout of “I’m saxy, baby” that was immediately met with a chorus of groans, his lips parting in a boisterous laugh.

“He’s our sax player,” Nnoitra continued, ignoring the boy with an eye roll and a grin. “Ran’s an angel,” he said, gesturing to the strawberry blond he’d talked to earlier, who shot him a lewd wink. “She’ll flirt shamelessly unless she’s playing, so just do your best to ignore it. Not that it’d be an issue with you anyway.”

Grimmjow’s cheeks flared at that comment, even though it didn’t seem like it was said to be malicious. His fling with that hot Russian guy had been splashed all over the papers when he’d been caught on his knees after a show. He’d been pissed about the whole thing, and had done one single interview in which he plainly stated that he was flamingly gay, and then refused to say much of anything else. But Nnoitra left it at that, not even looking at him, which made him think it wasn’t intended to be anything more than a passing comment, and he forced the anger to drain from his body.

“Byakuya’s an uptight dick, but he’s got magic fingers on the bass, electric or upright,” he continued, pointing out a reserved kid sitting stiffly off to the side, next to Rose. “He’s a good kid, and if you can make him smile, everyone in the room owes you ten bucks.”

Grimmjow actually laughed at that, the incredulity slowly seeping away as he realized that the man really did seem to love his students, and they seemed to feel the same. He’d never seen this kind of interaction between teacher and student, but he had a feeling that this man was the kind of instructor that people would say changed their lives. He grudgingly felt respect settle in his stomach.

“Ishida’s weird, but we love him anyway,” he said, and everyone laughed, the boy in question pushing his glasses up his nose even as a grin split his face. “He’s our cellist, and also tailors all our clothes. He’s pretty much a jack of all trades, and can probably fix or make anything you need.”

The boy’s face flushed, but he nodded in agreement, shooting Grimmjow a small smile before looking away again.

“Shiro’ll be here soon, but can you grab a violin and pick a piece to play?” he asked, sauntering back over to his desk and pulling the papers out of the printer.

Grimmjow nodded, making his way over to the shelf with all the violins. He didn’t bother to look when he heard the door, assuming it to be the infamous Shiro. And he was right. He jumped and dropped the case he was bringing down from the shelf when he felt a strong hand grab a handful of his ass, an appreciative hum coming from behind him.

Whirling, he stopped his fist seconds before it made contact with the boy’s face, noting the flash of shock in those golden eyes before they settled into amusement. The boy was pale enough that he was just shy of albino, hair bleached to a shocking white falling over his forehead as a lecherous grin spread his lips. He was wearing a sleeveless white muscle tee, and he sure as hell had all the right muscles to pull it off, and faded jeans clung to lithe thighs.

“And there would be Shiro,” Nnoitra’s voice called out. “Hands off, White,” was growled, and Grimmjow would be lying if the rumble in that deep voice didn’t send a shiver down his spine, along with the look in the man’s uncovered eye.

“You’re no fun,” Shiro drawled lazily, but he made his way past Grimmjow into the classroom, dropping his bag to the floor by Shinji. “And he’s so pretty, ‘specially bent over like that,” he said with a low, exaggerated moan.

Grimmjow straightened up immediately, yanking the violin case up with him, opening it and pulling the instrument out while glaring holes at the boy still leering at him.

“He’s my new TA, and he’s also Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,” Nnoitra ground out. Shiro was a fucking brat some days, but he usually wasn’t this bad. Although Nnoitra really couldn’t blame him, not with the way he was thinking about how much he’d like to get his own hands on that pert little ass.

Shiro sucked in a breath, eyes widening, then barked out a laugh.

“You tellin’ me I just groped my favorite violin player?” Shiro wheezed out. “I didn't even recognize you without blond hair.”

Grimmjow just glared at him as he stalked back to stand by Nnoitra, yanking the violin up to his chin and drawing the bow into place.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, not quite caring at the moment that he was technically supposed to be in a teacher’s role.

His eyes slipped closed and his brows furrowed together in annoyance. Fingers moving of their own accord, he placed the bow across the strings and drew the first note. Before he could breathe, his hands were moving, the sharp notes flying through the room, one after another, the quickness allowing for a sense of not only anxiety, but violence.

The tight notes softened to sensuous breaths floating around him, his body loosening before the sharpness plucked through the air once again, the pace quickening and brightening, notes slashing through the quiet as a sword through flesh and bone. He heard a sharp inhale as the bow was clenched between his teeth and his fingers began to pluck at the strings in rapid succession.

The sound was jilted, like the instrument didn’t want to give it up, and he had never loved any sound more. His heart was singing in time to the music as it slowed once again, suspense building in the air as the bow slid over taut strings. The high pitch pierced through the air and into his very soul, his body jerking along with the sounds, unable to stop himself from swaying in the drunken haze of music.

With the final note searing through the cool classroom, white hot and trembling, Grimmjow dropped the bow and the violin, breath shuddering out of him. His eyes opened once again to find the kids staring at him, slack-jawed, and his cheeks immediately heated. Turning to ask the teacher what to do next, he stopped cold at the awed expression lighting the tall man’s face. It looked like Nnoitra had just had a fucking orgasm, his cheeks flushed, his mouth dropped open slightly, his hands trembling.

Grimmjow flushed even harder when the unbidden image of the man staring down at him like that, cock filling his mouth, those long hands curled into his hair filled his mind. He quickly forced himself to look to the floor and pull the violin back into its case.

“Caprice No. 24, Paganini,” Nnoitra breathed out reverently, Grimmjow’s eyes snapping back up to him, full of blue fire.

He nodded, not quite able to muster a smile. The shocks of the music were still singing through his blood, just like they always did, especially with that piece. It was sexy, and violent, and fast; it always left him short of breath and wanting to have another go.

“I’ve never met anyone who can actually do justice to it.”

He did manage to draw up a smile for that. Paganini was one of his favorite composers, absolutely ridiculous man that he was. He was hard as hell to play, but the payoff was always worth it - the fire that rushed through his body, the breathless gasps that always seemed to take hold of him.

“That was fuckin’ hot,” came Shiro’s comment, but that cocky, egotistical voice was an octave lower and breathy.

Even that statement didn’t manage to piss Grimmjow off, he just shot the kid a snort, and was about to reply scathingly when the bell rang shrilly. He satisfied himself with a look and snapped the case shut as the class filed out, not paying much attention to the instructions Nnoitra was giving his students.

“Well, we’ve got a free period for now,” Nnoitra told him, lounging back in his chair. Long legs were spread wide, and those lithe arms were crossed behind his head.

Grimmjow took a second to admire the man’s frame before shaking himself out of it. He was technically his boss, even if he did act like someone Grimmjow might have met in a seedy bar. And he was clearly a musical genius himself, if what Rose said was to be believed. If he made them all learn on the spot, like he apparently did, then he was training a new group of musical prodigies. Imagine what that man could do if he started with children and coached them all the way through.

“You want more, don’t you?”

Grimmjow jumped a bit at being brought out of his thoughts again - he was used to being able to sink into his own mind and not have anything to interrupt him. Even when he’d taught in Germany for the beginning of the year, no one had dared interrupt him. If he looked like he was thinking, he was to be left alone. It was honestly quite the breath of fresh air to not be treated with kid gloves for once.

He just hummed at the question, not sure what exactly he was being asked, but he found that he quite liked the sound of the man’s voice.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Nnoitra offered with a lethal grin. He laughed when he saw Grimmjow flush, probably not used to people talking to him like a normal person, teasing him, making awful jokes.

He’d heard of the kid’s reputation. Grown up on the streets, wandering through Europe with a violin in his hand, playing on street corners for enthralled crowds and pocket change. Fought his way through the bad parts of town, left bruises and broken bones and admirers in his wake. And then someone had noticed him. The kid had immediately been whisked to the recording studio, then off on a world tour, and then suddenly dropped off to go teach in Germany.

Now he was in America, teaching a bunch of bratty high school kids, and partnered with a guy that he’d likely wind up in a fist fight with. From looking at him, though, Nnoitra couldn’t say that the thought wasn’t appealing to him. All that hard, toned muscle pressed up against him as they grappled. They’d probably be pretty evenly matched, too; he didn’t look it, but Nnoitra was damn strong, and he definitely fought dirty.

But right now, he just wanted to see the kid play again.

“I’ll play you something if you’ll play for me again,” he elaborated.

“You want me to play for you?” Grimmjow asked.

And although Nnoitra would probably rather have Grimmjow play _with_ him, he’d admit that the sight of that man almost falling to the floor, drunk off music, was almost as good. It went straight to his dick either way, but he could force himself to behave for the sake of propriety. After all, Grimm was his TA, and he was still a kid. Nnoitra was twenty six himself, he’d practically be robbing the cradle at this point.

“Yeah, preferably more Paganini, but I’ll take what I can get,” Nnoitra said agreeably, prodding the violin case at the boy’s feet with his toe.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but Nnoitra could see that there was no annoyance in those sparkling blue eyes, at least for the moment, just excitement and the thrill he associated with the fire that would burn under the skin at the prospect of another searing piece.

“I guess I can humor you,” he smirked over at the teacher.

Nnoitra grinned back at him and settled himself in to watch as that bow was pulled out and placed against the kid’s jaw once again. Honestly, he never wanted Grimmjow to put the damn thing away, it was too enthralling just seeing him holding it, not to mention the way his entire being seemed to freeze at the sounds he pulled from the instrument.

Those fiery blue eyes closed and he immediately missed them, but those thoughts fled from him the second the bow first drew back. He immediately recognized the melody; it had been the first he’d fallen in love with. It shouldn’t be surprising that the boy knew Paganini so well - he was a violin prodigy, of course he did - but it still sent a thrill through Nnoitra to think that they had such similar tastes in music.

The trembling voice of the violin soared through the air, settling deep into both of their bones, better than whisky. If Nnoitra could sit and listen to this boy play for the rest of eternity, he’d be one of the happiest men in existence. If he could get the boy to play for him and get a taste of all that muscled skin, he’d be the happiest man that could ever be thought up. But, like he’d said, he’d take what he could get.

It was over far too soon for Nnoitra’s liking, even if it _was_ almost fifteen minutes long, but then again, Paganini’s music never lasted as long as he wanted it to.

Breathless lips were trembling as drunken blue eyes slit open and focused on him after a few moments. Blue locks were shaken through the air as he shook his head to clear it, shooting Nnoitra a shaky smile.

“Devil’s Trill Sonata.”

Grimmjow just nodded, tucking the violin back into its case, shooting a grin over to the man lounging in front of him.

“Your turn.”

Nnoitra laughed, standing gracefully and rolling his shoulders. He prowled over to the piano sitting in the corner of the room, shot the boy a look, and placed his long fingers over the keys. Grimmjow watched his eye close, watched a breath fill his lungs, and plopped himself down in the still warm chair to watch the man.

Two notes rang out, low and dark, designed to capture attention and hush voices. They floated for a moment before being followed by four more, haunting, reminiscent of watching a shadow through the midnight fog.

He’d never liked playing piano, but listening to it was one of his favorite pastimes. And watching this man - this towering, glaring, intimidating man - lose the tension in his shoulders, he thought that this could be a new favorite pastime.

The music was low and desperate, a growling refusal, a demand for more, and Grimmjow had never heard the song played this way. It was a saddening, slow melody, but the way Nnoitra’s fingers flew over the keys turned it jarring, forceful.

It suited Nnoitra, the sharp changes, the barely concealed violence. Perhaps if he’d heard this before those piercing notes of violin, things would have been different. But he didn’t really want them to be.

So he sat and listened, watching the man as his respect for him grew. He wanted to hear more, was even tempted to sit down and play a bit himself, but he was too enthralled to move as those fingers pulled sounds through the still air of the classroom.

A hitched breath left Nnoitra as the last note rung lowly, his fingers sliding away to fall onto his lean thighs. He took a second to compose himself before turning to Grimmjow with a grin. But his mouth went dry the moment he saw the man.

He was sprawled lazily in Nnoitra’s office chair, long legs spread slightly, one hand curled loosely in all that blue hair. Nnoitra just wanted to sink to the ground in between those strong thighs and make them fucking _shake_.

“Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, Liszt,” Grimmjow said lowly.

A pleased thrill shot through Nnoitra. Of course he’d know the song, he was a classical artist himself. He nodded, the grin spreading on his face taking a predatory glint to it.

Their eyes met, and Nnoitra couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him at the way Grimmjow licked his lips. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the shrill ringing of the bell.

  


The days went on to weeks like this, the two of them dancing around each other and snapping insults back and forth, although they started to sound more like endearments after a while. It was after almost a month that something finally broke the routine of what they’d both gotten used to with each other.

That morning, Grimmjow had stalked his way into the classroom just ahead of Rose, his scowl deeper than usual. Everyone had ribbed him about it, but he’d mostly just ignored them. His behavior wasn’t what caught Nnoitra’s attention, though. The kid was entitled to have his bad days.

No, it was the way Grimmjow’s phone was buzzing near constantly on his desk that made Nnoitra curious. He’d found that Grimmjow only had six contacts saved in his phone - seven, now, including his. But every five minutes there was a new call coming in, and every time, Grimmjow would snarl and decline it, and by second period, he’d completely turned it off.

“Booty call won’t make himself happy with a one-off?” Nnoitra teased, ruffling his hand through that blue hair.

Grimmjow scowled up at him and shoved his hand off his head, rolling his eyes. He still got a little shock every time Nnoitra brought up his sexuality, but it was never negative. It was always just something that was, nothing more and nothing less, a simple fact that was just another aspect of his being. Most everyone else he’d ever been around had treated it like a big secret, to be referred to in hushed tones, in private.

He liked the bluntness, and the openness, and that was something he got in spades, about _everything_ , with Nnoitra.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled. “Everybody’s trying to call me and shit.”

Nnoitra looked down at the kid in shock for just a second. Why the hell was he this gloomy on his birthday? But he decided to go with usual tactic and smirked down at the boy.

“How old are ya now, Grimm? Six?” he teased, grinning.

“This many,” Grimmjow responded, holding up his middle finger with a smirk of his own. Nnoitra laughed, and he let himself chuckle lowly before answering, “I’m twenty one.”

Nnoitra leered at him, flicking his long tongue out to wet his lips as he shot the kid a wink. He laughed hard enough he almost burst his lungs at the look he got in response.

“So,” he said, leaning back on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. “You going bar hopping tonight?”

Grimmjow snorted, rolling his eyes lazily at the older man.

“Nah, I probably won’t even drink tonight,” he said, laughing slightly at himself.

“Not a fan of alcohol?” Nnoitra asked.

“Hm? Oh, no,” Grimmjow waved the question off. “Just don’t really feel like letting my sister and her fiancée take me around town, even if I am drunk.”

Both of them laughed, Nnoitra ruffling the kid’s hair again. A thought came to him - and yeah, he probably shouldn’t, but what was the harm in asking?

“What if I take you?”

Surprise flickered in those fiery blue eyes, and a pretty blush worked its way across sharp cheekbones. Grimmjow dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. Gods, who the fuck let this kid be so cute?

To Nnoitra’s surprise, he didn’t protest, just looked back up under his lashes with a shy smile and nodded.

“That would be cool, if you’re ok with it,” Grimmjow agreed, cutting his eyes away again.

Nnoitra had to clear his throat and fight down a blush himself before he could answer with a laugh that was maybe a little too loud.

“Course I am, I offered,” he said. “It’s Friday anyway, so I’ll follow you back to yours so you can drop your car off and get ready and all, and then at the end I’ll give ya a ride home or you can crash at mine.”

He’d probably regret that offer, after all, having a drunk Grimmjow in his house was probably not the best idea, especially if he was gonna be drunk as well, but the blush and the nod he got in response made his worries go out the door. So what if they were both drunk? He was a big boy, he could behave himself. And Grimm was a big boy, too, he could make his own decisions.

  


So it was decided. Grimmjow’s phone stayed turned off for the rest of the day, and his glum mood slowly lifted. By the time the final bell rang, he was practically vibrating with excitement. He gave Nnoitra his address and they both zipped off towards his house.

  


“Sorry about the mess,” Grimmjow said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

Nnoitra looked around with a raised eyebrow. There was an empty coke bottle on the table next to an open sleeve of crackers, and maybe a blanket or two not folded. Other than that, the place was practically immaculate.

“No worries,” Nnoitra responded, amusement filling his voice. “Go get ready, I’ll chill on the couch.”

He was already wearing his usual ‘going-out’ clothes, just a dark button down tucked into pair of tight black jeans, so he didn’t want to bother changing.

“Ok, be just a sec.”

Grimmjow shot him a near heart stopping smile, the first real one he’d seen from the kid that wasn’t shaky and breathless from music. He was absolutely beautiful. Nnoitra managed to give a small one back, plopping down on the couch and resting his hands behind his head as he waited.

Just as Grimmjow was exiting the bedroom, a lean white cat rounded the corner of the couch, bright green eyes staring holes through Nnoitra as he smiled at it.

“Oh, that’s Pantera,” Grimmjow called out. Nnoitra nodded with a smile and reached his hand out just as Grimmjow continued, “Be careful, she’s a bit of a bitch some-”

He was cut off by Nnoitra’s loud swear, followed by his cat’s hissing as the man’s hand flew back away from the cat. His thumb was in his mouth, sucking at the cut as he turned to look back at Grimmjow, and he forgot everything that just happened.

The kid was in a plain white v-neck, practically molded to his body, and faded skinny jeans that clung to muscled thighs like they were sown into his skin. Dark, heavy boots were on his feet, a well-worn leather jacket hooked over one of those wide shoulders. In short, he looked like sex on long, long legs.

“Fuck,” Nnoitra cursed, his mouth going dry at the sight.

“Shit I’m so sorry! Are you ok?”

Grimmjow rushed over, dropping his jacket on the arm of the couch, grabbing Nnoitra’s hand from his mouth and pulling it closer for inspection. He turned the hand over so he could run his fingers over a large palm, checking for any real damage.

Nnoitra finally regained his senses, chuckling at the younger man’s antics.

“Just surprised, Grimmy,” he said, laughing at himself. “I can handle a few cat scratches.”

Grimmjow flushed, tossing the man’s hand back at him and standing, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

“Just thought you were in real pain from the way you were screaming like a little kid,” Grimmjow shot at him, grinning maliciously.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Nnoitra growled back, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

He followed the boy out, leading them to his car near the edge of the lot. Opening the door with an exaggerated flourish, he let Grimmjow climb in before hopping in himself and starting the car.

“Ready?” he asked, pulling the car out and heading towards the closest bar. He looked over to see Grimmjow blushing as he nodded. Gods, the kid was lucky he was with Nnoitra tonight, he’d have gotten eaten alive at any bar he walked into looking like that.

They didn’t talk much on the drive there, but they’d found over the past weeks that they quite liked sitting in silence with each other. So when Nnoitra pulled up and parked, he looked over at the blue haired man with a questioning look. A quick nod, and they were both stepping out of the car, Nnoitra locking it quickly behind him.

For a while, it was just idle chatter, school talk, life talk, letting the music pulse under their skin. Nnoitra bought him a few shots of things he wanted to try, a couple g&t’s that Grimmjow drained like they were water. And Nnoitra knew they were strong; the bartender, Ichigo, was an old friend of his, and always made anything he or his friends ordered extra stiff.

He used to make Nnoitra extra stiff, too, usually in the back room that went mostly unused, all that attitude draining away as he was pressed up against the wall and fucked through it. But he’d met someone, a hot little thing named Renji, all fiery hair and tribal tattoos, and he was finally _happy_ , so Nnoitra couldn’t really say that he minded.

Nnoitra excused himself for a second, needing to take a leak, but he ran back quickly, not wanting to leave the kid alone for too long. He’d asked Ichigo to keep an eye on him, but still. It was his first time in a bar, since he’d said he hadn’t done any public drinking in Europe, and he’d probably be beating people off of him by the time Nnoitra got back.

Sighing, he rolled his shoulders as he made his way back to the bar, eye scanning for that vibrant blue. He found it, and a smile stretched his lips, almost immediately turning to a snarl when he saw who was standing beside him, leaning casually against the bar in the spot Nnoitra had recently vacated.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, though,” Shunsui was crooning at him, that stupid pink jacket straining over his shoulders. “Nnoitra wouldn’t know how to handle you if he got you underneath him. But I could have you writhing and screaming for me in-”

“Enough, Shunsui,” Nnoitra growled, practically vibrating with fury.

First of all, Grimmjow wasn’t something to just be tossed around. He had no right to be speaking to the man like that. Secondly, Grimmjow was _his_. If anyone was gonna have that boy screaming tonight, it was gonna be him.

“Ah, Nnoitra, how have you been?” the man practically crowed. “I’ve missed you oh so terribly you know. I was just getting acquainted with the lovely little thing you left for the taking.”

“He’s not a fucking toy,” he managed to grind out, tamping down his anger.

Grimmjow was half drunk, eyes just starting to glaze over, a small grin on those full lips. He really didn’t want to get into a fight tonight and ruin the kid’s birthday. And he really didn’t want to get into a fight and then have to carry the kid home.

“Hm, you’re quite right, he’s not a ‘fucking toy,’” Shunsui mused, long fingers trailing lightly down Grimmjow’s throat before they were harshly batted away by both Nnoitra and Grimmjow. “He’d make a good fuck toy, though, don’t you think?”

That was it. Nnoitra started forward, but Ichigo's voice cut through the din of the crowd.

“Not in my bar, Nnoitra. There’s a perfectly good alleyway out back for that,” he commanded disapprovingly.

“Sounds good to me,” Nnoitra snarled, jerking his head towards the door.

They stalked outside, the door slamming later than it should’ve and Nnoitra looked back for a second to see a somewhat more sober Grimmjow leaning against the wall, amusement and curiosity, along with more than a little vodka, swimming in his eyes. He really wished the kid would’ve just stayed where he was, but as he heard the whistle of Shunsui’s fist swinging through the air, he knew he didn’t have time for that to matter.

So he ducked, lashing out and driving his fist hard into the man’s ribs, feeling a satisfying crack under his fingers. Shunsui whirled, wheezing in a breath, but it’d take more than that to get him down. Nnoitra would probably have to actually knock him out to get this done with. Another miss, and a long leg swept out to catch Shunsui’s ankle, bringing him down on his knee, cracking sickeningly on the asphalt.

Long fingers twisted into chocolate curls, and he sneered down at the man before pulling his fist back and slamming it into his face. He dropped like a rock, crumpling to a heap in the alley, and Nnoitra turned back to check on Grimmjow, wincing at the pain in his hand.

Grimmjow’s eyes were closed, and he had his hands clenched to fists. Nnoitra rushed over, placing one hand on each of the the man’s shoulders, worried that he would be sick.

“Hey, you ok, Grimmy?” he asked, his voice soothing.

Those blue eyes shot open, still swimming intoxicatedly, but they were darker now, more intense. A growl ripped from that pale throat, and Nnoitra suddenly found himself being flipped, pushed back against the cold, hard brick. And he suddenly had all that muscle pressed up against his body, caging him in.

“That was fuckin’ hot.”

Those grunted words were all the warning he got, suddenly having a pair of warm lips pressed against his own. Grimmjow’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him down even as he stood on his tiptoes, leaning against Nnoitra. A hot tongue was pressing its way into his mouth, tasting of gin and vodka, and deft fingers were pulling at his hair, and all he could do was moan and twine his tongue with the one mapping his mouth. His hands were on those slim hips, pulling him even closer, one reaching further back to firmly squeeze that perfect little ass.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; everything was Grimmjow, all over him, tasting him. And then he yanked at a few blue strands at the base of his neck, and Grimmjow _whimpered_ , grinding his hips forward filthily.

Nnoitra froze, finally realizing what he was doing and yanking the kid back, even if he didn’t have the strength to fully push him away. Grimmjow was looking up at him, all confused and flushed and testing every last iota of his control. Taking a deep breath, he tore his hand away from the boy’s ass and placed both of them on his shoulders.

“Grimmjow, you’re drunk, and I’m your boss,” Nnoitra said firmly, even though his voice shook just slightly. “I’m going to drive you home, and we can talk about this at some point later.”

He went to push the boy off him, but suddenly he found himself with an armful of shaking man, clutching at his forearm like it was a lifeline, branding his touch into his skin. Grimmjow was trembling in Nnoitra’s arms, taking deep, broken breaths as he tried to speak.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” The words were a broken plea, barely audible. “Everyone always calls me, but I’m always alone on my birthday - Nel and Szay aren’t in the country, they weren’t gonna be here tonight, and I didn’t wanna be alone, and I thought if I kissed you I wouldn't have to be alone,” Grimmjow rambled, then gasped. “That’s not why I kissed you! I mean, I didn’t wanna be alone, and I thought if I kissed you I could spend the night with you, but I kissed you cause I wanted to, cause you’re hot and cool and funny and really nice and talented and you make me feel like a normal person, and-”

He was cut off by a gentle finger placed against his lips. It was cool, and surprisingly soft, but he could feel the edge of a callous.

“Hush, Grimmy,” Nnoitra commanded quietly. “You’re drunk, and apparently horny, and lonely. I’d have let you stay over if you wanted, all you had to do was ask.” He smiled kindly down at Grimmjow, who looked like he was  almost on the verge of tears now. “We’re gonna go back to my place, and I’m gonna make you some food, and we’re gonna hang out and watch movies, and I’ll take you back home in the morning.”

Grimmjow nodded absently at the tall man holding him up. He was guided back to his own two feet, a strong arm wrapped around his waist as Nnoitra led them back through the bar. He vaguely heard the man paying for the last of their drinks and telling the bartender that he’d see him later, and then he was being carefully pressed into the passenger seat of Nnoitra’s car.

He snuggled into the soft leather as Nnoitra slid in and started the car, swinging it around and heading home.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled into his shoulder. “I ruined your night and made you get in a fight and kissed you when you didn’t want it.”

Grimmjow was glaring at his own shirt now, starting to get mad at himself along with his rising sense of depression.

Nnoitra nearly slammed his hand on the steering wheel. It wasn’t the kid’s fucking fault. But he couldn’t exactly tell him he wanted it.

“It’s fine, Grimm,” he promised. “I had a good time tonight, you’re fun to hang out with. I fought Shunsui cause he’s a fucking dick, and…you’re not the first person to kiss someone drunk.”

There, that worked. He hadn’t actually said anything that meant anything about the kiss, but he’d managed to smooth it over. The laugh ringing out made him jump.

“I kissed a straight guy,” Grimmjow marveled, turning to Nnoitra. “You’re the only straight guy I’ve ever kissed.”

Nnoitra rolled his eye and spoke before he could stop himself.

“Grimmy, I’m about as straight as you are,” he chuckled out.

Well, no use grimacing now, he’d already said it out loud. It’s not like it should change anything between the two of them anyway. They’d still just be two people.

Grimmjow was just staring at him incredulously, trying to get the information through his alcohol addled brain. The fact that the moon was shining through the window and highlighting the breathtaking beauty of Nnoitra’s face wasn’t helping him concentrate either.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I should’ve asked. You’re just so pretty and I’ve been thinking about it forever and maybe when I’m not drunk I’ll ask you if I can cause I wanna do it again.”

Nnoitra just swallowed harshly. The kid was just drunk, and lonely. He’d been there. He knew what it was like. In the morning, Grimmjow would be gone, and things would be incredibly awkward between them for a while. Grimmjow probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, and he wouldn’t push the matter, there was no reason to.

So he didn’t answer as he pulled into his driveway, unbuckling himself and Grimmjow before getting out and helping the kid out of the car. He trudged up his front steps, fumbling with his keys as Grimmjow leaned against him, managing at last to pull them both inside and gently deposited his assistant on the couch.

“What do you want to eat, Grimmy?” he asked, helping him slide down to lay on his side and covering him with a soft blanket.

“Uh uh,” he said, shaking his head like a petulant child, bringing a smile to Nnoitra’s face. “Can I go to sleep?”

Nnoitra huffed out a laugh. He’d gotten off lucky. If Grimmjow had decided to press the matter, especially with how goddamn cute he was being, Nnoitra would’ve been a goner.

“Of course you can go to sleep,” he chuckled, tucking him in more firmly, prying his shoes off and tossing the back towards the door. Grimmjow snuggled deeply into the cushions, a contented smile on his face as he wrapped the blankets tighter around his shoulders.

Nnoitra smiled fondly and turned the lights off, whispering that he’d be in his room if Grimmjow needed anything. It was nearly midnight anyway, so they’d at least spent quite a bit of time out and about. He hoped he’d managed to give Grimmjow a good birthday. Maybe not as perfect as he’d planned it to be, but since the kid was currently burrowing into his couch with a smile, he’d count it as a success.

Shucking off his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, he stripped to his briefs before sliding into bed, pulling his own covers up. His sheets were cold, but they quickly warmed under his body heat, the sounds of the rain that was starting up lulling him to sleep.

  


Nnoitra jolted upright at the scream that pierced through the still night air, almost falling over himself to get to Grimmjow. Had he locked the door behind them? He couldn’t remember. Shunsui could’ve followed them home, could be hurting Grimmjow.

But as he rounded the corner, he found the blue haired man writhing on his couch, tears streaming down his face as his lips parted in another shattering scream. Nnoitra didn’t hesitate as he fell to his knees at the couch, shaking the boy by the shoulders and calling his name. A fist connected with his jaw sharply, sending him careening back into his coffee table.

“Don’t touch me!” Grimmjow shrieked, his eyes finally snapping open, his arm drawing back for another swing.

Those eyes widened as he realized who was sprawled in front of him, his arm falling to his side as he closed his eyes and tried to get himself under control. He hastily wiped away his tears, refusing to let any more fall. His breathing slowed and he opened his eyes again, looking guiltily back at Nnoitra.

He expected anger at being hit, maybe annoyance at being woken up. The man had surely realized it was a nightmare by now. He felt like a stupid little kid, waking up screaming from a fucking bad dream.

“Grimmy?” Nnoitra questioned hesitantly. “Are you ok?”

There was nothing but concern in that low, deep voice, and Grimmjow felt his heart pitch. This had been a terrible idea. He should’ve known going out drinking with his crush would end fucking awfully, but he hadn’t thought it would be quite this horrendous.

“Fine,” he croaked out, refusing to look Nnoitra in the eye. “Sorry I hit you. You ok?”

His voice was ragged, like he’d swallowed broken glass. How long had he been screaming? And why the hell was Nnoitra chuckling?

“You were still mostly asleep, you didn’t manage to get a good one in,” he informed the boy, noting that while he had managed to breathe normally, he was still trembling uncontrollably.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Grimmjow drew in a quick breath and then blurted out, “You don’t have to say yes, but can you sit with me or something? They, uh, the nightmares kinda fuck me up, and it’s scary to be alone right now.”

Fucking pathetic. He was a grown man, saying he was scared to be alone because of some nightmares. Grimmjow didn’t think he’d ever hated himself more.

“I’m too tired for that,” Nnoitra sighed.

Grimmjow felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t really expected Nnoitra to agree, but it still hurt to be brushed aside like that.

“Come on, Grimmy,” Nnoitra said.

The man was standing again, a long hand - bruised knuckles, a few scratches from Pantera - held out to him. He looked up to Nnoitra’s face, seeing the bag under his uncovered eye and the concern swimming in it. Taking that hand, he shakily pulled himself up.

He let Nnoitra lead him into the bedroom, let himself be pushed down onto the bed, Nnoitra standing in front of him. Realizing the taller man wasn't wearing anything but a pair of briefs, he turned his head to the side, blushing. This wasn’t where he thought it was going, and he didn’t really want to do this right now, but maybe he owed it to Nnoitra for taking care of him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t attracted to him, and if Nnoitra wanted him right now, then he’d deal with the fact that he wasn’t exactly in the mood and he’d let the man have his fun.

But of course, Nnoitra didn’t ever do what was expected.

“Get comfy, I’m gonna go back to sleep,” Nnoitra informed him, crawling in beside him and pulling the covers over them both. “You need anything, you wake me up. I’m right here, ok?”

Grimmjow nodded, and Nnoitra was just happy that he’d finally stopped shaking like a leaf. He laid on his back, wanting to make it easy for Grimmjow if he needed to snuggle up or wake him up.

  


Grimmjow woke up, groggily rubbing his eyes as he snuggled deeper into bed. This was way more comfortable than even his wonderfully plush mattress at home. It was warm and firm and there was a pleasant thumping coming from under his palm, and he smiled contentedly.

Then his eyes jolted open, and he sucked in a quick breath. He _was_ in a bed, but that’s not what he was snuggling into. What he was snuggling into was -

“Nnoitra?” he whispered, lifting his head slowly so he wouldn’t wake the other man.

He remembered that he didn’t actually fuck his boss last night, but nearly groaned in embarrassment when he realized that he _had,_ in fact, pressed him up against a wall in an alley and kissed him breathless. And that he’d then been turned down. And that Nnoitra was gay and hadn’t gotten mad at him for kissing him or punching him and had let him sleep in his bed after he had a nightmare.

This was all too fucking much. Well, he’d deal with the present, for now, and figure out what the hell to do later... well, later.

Thanking every deity he could think of, he grinned softly when he found that he didn’t have much more than a light headache in the form of a hangover. He rolled out of bed when his stomach growled, feeling incredibly cold suddenly, but his flush came back in spades when he looked back down.

The covers were just below Nnoitra’s hips, all that pale, surprisingly heavily scarred skin there for him to feast his eyes on. The band of his boxers was visible over the sheets, and he could see the bulge of the man’s soft cock beneath the fabric. He must be fucking massive hard.

But he shook his head, he really shouldn’t be thinking about that. Especially when he noticed just how peaceful Nnoitra looked when he was sleeping, dark strands of hair falling around his face, lips opened slightly, soft snores floating up from him. His arm was laid out where Grimmjow had been laying, inviting him to come lay back down and snuggle up.

He could see it in his head, imagining it as he shucked off his jeans and soiled shirt and pulled on a pair of gym shorts laying on the floor and a tank top thrown over a chair. He could see himself snuggling back into that warm chest, pressing kisses over his throat and jaw until he woke, then kissing him stupid. He’d crawl on top of him and kiss his way down each of those scars, give up all control and let that cock push roughly into his throat. He’d have Nnoitra for breakfast, then slide out of bed and go fix breakfast.

Sighing, pushing those images out of his head and trying to ignore his erection, he decided he could do at least one of those things. Grimmjow turned and left the room, heading towards the kitchen.

He was as quiet as he could manage as he scrambled the few eggs Nnoitra had left in his fridge, buttering toast as those cooked. There had been some bacon, but it looked questionable, so he went with the unopened pack of sausage on the shelf. They started sizzling delectably as he scraped the eggs out onto two plates. Plucking the sausages off the pan, he plated them before adding the toast.

Realizing he hadn’t gotten drinks, he grabbed the bottle of orange juice from the fridge. He didn’t really have hands for cups, so they could just drink out of the bottle.

  


Nnoitra woke to a cold bed. His sheets were down by his hips and his arms were empty. He remembered waking up a few times and finding the blue haired man curled into his chest, breathing deeply and holding him like he was a lifeline.

Sighing, he berated himself for getting his hopes up. Of course Grimmjow wouldn’t still be here. He’d been embarrassed beyond belief last night, there was no way he’d stayed. Nnoitra had hoped to wake up before Grimmjow, make him breakfast, then talk him back into his bed now that he was sober. The things the boy had said last night had given him a little hope.

_“You’re just so pretty and I’ve been thinking about it forever and maybe when I’m not drunk I’ll ask you if I can cause I wanna do it again.”_

He rubbed his hands over his face, refusing to let himself get fucked up over this, even if his chest ached oddly and his stomach was in knots just thinking about it. The door to his room swung open and his head snapped up. Although the sight of Grimmjow with two plates of steaming food and a bottle of orange juice was more than welcome, the feeling of soaring elation that came with it most certainly wasn’t.

But he was still here. He hadn’t left, he’d stayed in Nnoitra’s bed, and apparently made them breakfast in bed.

He wasn’t given much time to think as Grimmjow plopped himself down on the bed, tossing the juice down and passing Nnoitra a plate and a fork. Then Nnoitra realized he wasn’t wearing the shirt and jeans he’d had on last night.

“Are you…wearing my clothes?” he asked, taking in the gym shorts that were way too big and the tank top that hung to the boy’s thighs.

Grimmjow flushed prettily and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. It was a habit, apparently, and Nnoitra found that he quite liked making him do that.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Grimmjow replied. “Mine were dirty and all and…I’ll wash them and give them back, sorry, I didn’t really think about it.”

Nnoitra just stared for a moment, still caught up in the fact that Grimmjow was in his bed, had apparently made him breakfast, and was wearing his clothes, because fuck did he look good in them.

“Um, I can take them off if you want?” Grimmjow offered uncertainly, taking Nnoitra’s silence for annoyance.

 _Yes, take them off, take everything off_.

Nnoitra couldn’t stop the grin that spread over his face, the wicked glint that found its way into his eye.

“Shouldn’t offer to strip for me like that, Grimmy,” he joked, even though his voice was lower than usual and he was suddenly very acutely aware that he was wearing nothing but a pair of old briefs.

Grimmjow flushed, mouth dropping open, shocked, trying to splutter something out before Nnoitra’s laughter cut him off. The tall man was wheezing, bent over himself as he sat cross legged on the bed.

“Sorry, kid, I couldn’t resist,” he chuckled, getting himself back under control. “It’s fine, you can wear them.” Then, after a pause, “They look good on you.”

Grimmjow’s head was still reeling, images of Nnoitra watching while he stripped for him dancing in his head. Was Nnoitra fucking hitting on him? Or just making fun of him because of last night? He covered up his raging blush by scowling and growling out, “Shut up and eat your breakfast, asshole.”

Nnoitra laughed again, but didn’t say anything more as he dug in. Groans and other noises that were honestly just lewd fell from the tall man as he ate, licking his lips and plopping the plate on his bedside table once he finished. He grabbed the juice and took several large gulps, drops of orange juice clinging to the corners of his mouth as he capped it and tossed it back down.

“So you’re a god with a violin _and_ in the kitchen, who’d have thought?” Nnoitra teased, laying back and placing a big hand on his pleasantly full stomach.

Grimmjow just rolled his eyes, grabbing the juice himself and taking a long drink. He could feel Nnoitra’s eye on him as he wiped a drip away from his jawline.

“Shut up, idiot,” he growled, grabbing the plate on the nightstand and the juice and stepping back into the kitchen to deposit them in the sink and the fridge, respectively. He’d have started washing the plates, but he heard Nnoitra yelling, “Grimm!”

Rushing back to the bedroom, he skidded in, confusion rising over the panic as he saw the lanky man lounging with one hand on his stomach and the other arm splayed out like it had been this morning.

“The fuck?” he spluttered. “Are you ok?”

Nnoitra propped himself up on one arm, staring at the boy in his doorway and feeling his mouth go dry again. Grimmjow really did look good in his clothes, even if they didn’t fit.

“Bed’s cold,” he said simply, plopping back down comfortably.

Grimmjow just stared incredulously.

“Ok?”

Nnoitra’s eye slitted back open, and he felt like he could fall right into that stare.

“So come back and snuggle, I don’t wanna be cold,” he responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Grimmjow seemed to forget how to move. What the fuck? Why wasn’t he shoving him out the door, or yelling at him for kissing him without his consent last night? He was just laying there, nothing covering him but those tiny boxer briefs, telling Grimmjow to come back to bed like it was something that happened every day.

That eye narrowed, and Grimmjow swallowed harshly, shivering.

“Don’t make me come get you, Grimmjow,” he growled.

The rumble in his tone seemed to uproot Grimmjow’s feet, even as he tried to stop his cock from hardening at the way Nnoitra had said his name. Forcing himself to calm down, he crawled back into bed, snuggling into Nnoitra’s chest like he had been when he woke up, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of pure man, mixed with lemon and mint. Must be his shampoo.

Nnoitra seemed to already be half asleep again, pulling him closer and wrapping a long arm around his waist.

“Good boy,” he murmured absently, tucking Grimmjow’s head under his chin.

Grimmjow stilled, biting back a surprised moan and doing his best to keep his eyes from rolling back at the praise. Those were his two favorite words in the world, never failing to make his body melt and his cock harden. Hearing them in that low, growling, sleepy voice was wreaking havoc on his libido, and on his determination to behave himself around the older man.

Fuck.

He stiffened in Nnoitra’s grasp, holding himself still so as not to react to the words; he was trying not to fuck things up again. The man’s hand smoothed over his skin, and he found himself unable to hold back a shudder. All those long, calloused fingers brushing over his skin - he couldn’t help it.

But Nnoitra seemed to notice, shaking himself out of his mostly asleep state and pulling back a bit to look down at the blue haired boy in his arms.

“You ok, Grimmy?” he asked groggily, blinking a few times to clear the sleep away from his vision.

“Huh?” Grimmjow replied, a bit lost in thought as he looked back up. Gods, that man was gorgeous. Even with the mysterious missing eye and the too wide smile and the multitude of scars that probably would’ve turned most people away, Grimmjow was enthralled. “Oh, yeah, fine, sorry,” he stumbled out.

“Stop apologizing,” Nnoitra growled down at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just got all tense on me there for a second, wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Grimmjow huffed out a laugh at being scolded for apologizing. He got told that a lot, although very rarely in such nice terms. It was usually more along the lines of telling him they’d give him something to be sorry for or just plain getting mad at him for doing it. Nnoitra wasn’t like most of the people he’d met before, but maybe it was just an American thing. He hadn’t really spent any significant amount of time with anyone else since getting here.

“Oh, yeah, fine,” he repeated, not able to come up with anything more eloquent. “Didn’t mean to tense up, you know, just when you said that…”

Grimmjow trailed off, looking away as he blushed furiously. He really didn’t want to start explaining his kinks to the man when he was pressed so tightly against him.

“What’d I say?” Nnoitra asked, turning his head to fully look at Grimmjow, grinning at the blush on the kid’s cheeks. His hand was unconsciously trailing back and forth over Grimmjow’s side, unable to get enough of the feeling of all that corded muscle shifting under smooth skin. That blush flared brighter, and he raised his brow. What the actual hell had he managed to say half-asleep that could be making him act like this?

“Oh, um, nothing important,” Grimmjow laughed out nervously, waving it off and still refusing to meet his eye. He missed the narrowing of the man’s eye, but he didn’t miss the way his hand tightened over his waist for a second.

“C’mon, Grimmy,” Nnoitra teased. “Came out of my mouth, didn’t it? I should have a right to know what the hell I said.”

Grimmjow just laughed nervously again, his eyes staying glued to the wall. He so was not going to repeat what Nnoitra had mumbled. Not gonna happen.

“Nothing, really.”

“Grimmjow.”

That growling voice was accompanied by a firm hand grasping his chin, forcing him to look up into the single silvery eye staring down at him. He felt his breath catch, and his mouth was moving before he could stop himself.

“You said ‘good boy,’” he breathed out.

Now it was Nnoitra’s turn to blush, his hand finally stilling in its unintentional torture. His other hand rubbed over his chest abashedly, and he seemed to stumble with words for a few moments before he finally managed to speak.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled, nervously laughing. “I wasn’t thinking, um, guess it just slipped out, sorry.”

And Nnoitra said _he_ was bad about apologizing.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just didn’t expect it, and all.”

Wow. Eloquent. A real poet there, Grimmjow. And he was blushing again, damn it all. He’d be lucky if Nnoitra ever let this go, especially with the way he could feel himself hardening in the borrowed gym shorts. He tried to pull back a bit, but found himself trapped by the arm around his waist, along with the grin being directed at him.

Nnoitra hummed lowly, that grin spreading further, leaning down so his face was just an inch from Grimmjow’s.

“I intend to do lots of things you don’t expect,” he told the boy. “But let’s start with this.”

And then those lips were on his. Warm, supple, soft. When that tongue teased its way into his mouth, he could still taste the orange juice they’d drunk. The kiss was slow, but Nnoitra’s lips were still commanding. He made sure Grimmjow knew damn well that he was in charge here, and there was no room for argument.

Grimmjow wouldn’t have argued even if he could have. The way that tongue was twirling around his, those lips soft, but firm, pressed into his, it was too much for him to even process fully, so he just let himself feel.

And then - _oh, fuck -_ he was being flipped onto his back, pinned under all that lithe muscle and pale skin, barely able to gasp in a breath as Nnoitra continued to kiss him. He couldn’t think, not when those hips were slotting between his thighs, not when a warm, calloused hand was running down to catch just above his knee and lift so he could hold it against his body, not when a quiet moan rumbled into his mouth.

He gasped and tried to follow when Nnoitra finally pulled back, not wanting to lose the exquisite feel of those lips on his.

“This ok?” Nnoitra asked him breathlessly, his fingers flexing where they held Grimmjow’s knee up against his waist.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Grimmjow growled up at him, taking the leg that Nnoitra was holding and wrapping it around his waist before grinding his hips up harshly. The hitched breath and vicious squeeze to his thigh told him that was the right answer, as did the heavy, hot length pressing back into his through those gym shorts.

Nnoitra grinned down at him in a way that made him sure he’d gotten himself in way over his head, and he couldn’t have been more thrilled about that fact. Those wicked lips came down to brush against the shell of his ear, and he moaned when he felt a wet kiss being pressed in the hollow just beneath his ear.

“You be a good little boy for me, and I won’t,” Nnoitra promised in a filthy whisper.

Grimmjow couldn’t do anything but let out a moan that tapered off into a whine as Nnoitra’s strong hips ground down against his, practically rutting against the boy underneath him. If he’d known all he had to do was make use of his own biggest kink in order to have the blue haired sex god writhing underneath him, he’d have whispered it in his ear the second he’d gotten his first look at that pretty little ass.

Long fingers tangled into blue hair, and he pulled slowly, increasing the pressure until Grimmjow’s breath hitched and his head was arched back prettily. Nnoitra leaned down and nuzzled against that pale throat, trailing soft, barely there kisses down to his collarbone. He smiled against the soft skin, hearing a quiet whine escape Grimmjow’s lips, and then he pulled back just a little and bit down. Teeth scraped harshly against skin, a hot tongue following their trail, tearing a moan out of his mouth.

Grimmjow’s fingers twined harshly into Nnoitra’s hair, his hips rising off the bed needily, pressing his erection against a bony hip. He couldn’t think past the feeling of that hot mouth leaving mark after mark on the sensitive flesh. All he knew was that he wanted more, wanted Nnoitra to keep going, and never ever stop. He wanted more of that mouth, all over him, wanted the hand that had left his thigh and was working its way under the borrowed tank top to hurry up and really touch him.

Lithe fingers slid their way up that toned body, feeling chiselled abs clenching under his touch, heart pounding and breath coming rapidly. He let the boy’s head go, urging him back into another heated kiss. And he grinned when sharp teeth clamped down over his bottom lip at the sensation of calloused fingertips pinching and squeezing a firm nipple between them, teasing and making Grimmjow arch.

The whines that were coming out of the man’s mouth were nothing short of alluring, sounding like he almost didn’t want to give them up. Nnoitra could feel every noise that he pulled from Grimmjow tumbling into his mouth, and he wasn’t sure how much more of this teasing he could handle.

Usually, he was very patient in bed, loving to go almost too slow until his partner was whining and begging him to just get on with it and stop with the teasing, the fondling, the edging. It was his favorite part of sex, watching his partner come apart under his hands, just so he could fuck them practically through the mattress.

But Grimmjow was testing him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been denying himself more than an occasional fantasy, never touching, never tasting, always behaving like he should. Maybe it was the way the boy was writhing under him, nipping harshly at his lips as they tasted each other, arching his hips and _whimpering_.

Whatever it was, his control was on the verge of snapping. Grimmjow needed to be out of the borrowed clothes, and Nnoitra needed to be buried inside that tight little ass, _now_.

“I’ll make you beg me for it next time, baby boy,” he growled into Grimmjow’s ear, grinding his hips down and raking his nails over the man’s side.

A plaintive moan tumbled from Grimmjow’s mouth as he felt Nnoitra pull back, quick fingers yanking at the hem of the tanktop and pulling it over his head.

One eye raked over the lithe body stretched beneath Nnoitra, his hips flexing instinctively as he took in all that toned, perfect skin. He wanted to taste, to lick, to bite, to _mark_. Wanted to mar the expanse of skin with hickies and scratches that only he would know were there.

And he’d do that. Later.

Right now, all that mattered was getting his own boxers off and then getting the borrowed shorts off Grimmjow’s strong legs. So Nnoitra leaned down and pressed a bruising kiss to the boy’s pliant lips, groaning as their hips ground together. His free hand yanked at the gym shorts, managing to pull them down far enough for Grimmjow to kick them off, immediately wrapping his long fingers around the hot, hard length of that perfect cock.

Grimmjow gasped softly, his whole body arching, head thrown back against the pillows. His throat was pulled taut in an elegant arch, just begging Nnoitra to taste it once again. Who was he to deny such a beautiful request?

He dipped his head and let his tongue trace Grimmjow’s pulse, following it up to his jawline, where he laid harsh nips and soothing kisses. The little half-broken moans and gasps that were being torn from those gorgeous lips were driving Nnoitra absolutely crazy. If he didn't get inside the boy soon, he was going to cum just from the sounds Grimmjow was making.

Pulling back, Nnoitra released Grimmjow’s cock, grinning far too smugly at the whine he got in response. The sight of the blue haired boy beneath him made his cock throb with need. He was all mussed hair and half lidded eyes and swollen, pink lips. By that point, Nnoitra was entirely convinced that the man was actually an incubus, and he was more than happy to be chosen as the prey.

He leaned back further, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his briefs, wanting to be just as nude as the man beneath him. Before he could get them more than an inch lower, Grimmjow’s fingers were wrapped around his wrists. His head snapped up and he looked inquisitively into those blazing blue eyes.

“Don't want to go all the way?” he asked, making sure that there was nothing but worry and care in his voice.

Yes, he wanted to be buried to the hilt between those strong thighs, but he could wait. He could content himself with a handjob, or a blowjob, or whatever Grimmjow was comfortable with. As long as he didn't scare the boy out of his bed, he'd be ok with damn near anything.

“No, I…” Grimmjow trailed off for a moment, a blush coloring his cheeks as he turned his head and looked away. His voice was soft when he asked, “Can I do it?”

Nnoitra didn't even hesitate.

“Anything you want, Grimmy.”

Especially if what he wanted involved those gorgeous, long fingered hands roaming over his body, stripping him, feeling him.

Grimmjow grinned up at him, moving his hands to rub his thumbs along the flat plane of the taller man’s hips. Nnoitra let his hands drop to his sides, wanting to give the boy free reign. He wasn't expecting Grimmjow to scoot himself up so he was kneeling in front of him, mirroring his position, that sinful mouth sliding over his, those deft fingers teasing along his skin.

“Can you sit on the edge of the bed for me, please?” Grimmjow whispered against Nnoitra’s lips.

Fuck, if he asked like that, Nnoitra would find a way to pull the stars from the sky and give them to him. He pulled back and scooted to the edge of the bed, watching as Grimmjow hopped off the bed and came to stand in front of him, between his thighs. Gods, he fucking hoped the boy would get those damn briefs off him soon.

Long fingers trailed down his throat, over his collarbone, falling down his chest torturously slowly, finally coming to rest lightly on the hem of the suffocating fabric. Nnoitra groaned and shifted his hips, hoping he'd get the message. Grimmjow finally looked back into his eye, a wicked grin stretching his face.

Nnoitra’s mind went completely blank as the boy dropped to his knees in front of him. Those fingers were teasing just beneath the elastic, making him feel like he was going to explode. Burning blue eyes stared up at him, a tongue coming out to lick along those lips, and Nnoitra honestly thought he forgot how to breathe.

And then he really did forget how to breathe, because that head was in his lap, fingers still teasing at the elastic, but that mouth was wrapped around the bulge in his briefs, tongue lapping at the fabric. Grimmjow moaned as he tasted the precum that had soaked through, wetting the area further as he licked and sucked, not stopping until Nnoitra’s hips bucked and he let out a shaky breath, one long hand wrapping loosely around the back of his head.

He looked up, his lips red and slick, eyes burning with need, fingers clutching at thin hips. His breath hitched at the look in Nnoitra’s eye.

“Can I?”

Those fingers clenched in his hair as Nnoitra fought not to buck his hips at those words. Fucking hell, this kid was going to be the death of him, seriously. He smirked down at Grimmjow, shifting his hand so he had a better grip on all that blue hair.

“Is that how you ask for things you want, baby boy?” he taunted. “I think you can do better.”

Grimmjow's eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened slightly, and it took everything in Nnoitra not to just shove him onto his back and ravish him right then. His lashes lifted heavily, his breath hitching again before he spoke.

“May I please suck your cock, Daddy?”

_Fuck._

There went his last bit of control. Nnoitra growled low in his throat, nodding once and releasing his hold on the boy’s hair, leaning back on his palms to watch.

“Give Daddy a show, baby boy.”

Grimmjow fucking _whined_ at that, and Nnoitra knew that he was going to have to keep the boy for a long, long time. Gods, he was absolutely fucking perfect.

That mouth was on his hip, licking and nipping, tasting him, while long fingers finally pulled the constricting fabric down his legs, tossing the briefs off to the side. Nnoitra watched, his eye half lidded, as Grimmjow let his lips wander to the crease of his thigh. His hips twitched involuntarily when that sinful tongue flicked out and licked along that line, so close to where he wanted it, and nowhere near close enough. He could feel himself dripping onto his abs, and then Grimmjow pulled back, his fingers encircling the throbbing shaft loosely.

“Fuck,” Grimmjow breathed, taking in the sight before him.

Nnoitra's cock was long, like the man himself, and thick in all the right places. He kept himself clean shaven, and Grimmjow was thrilled at that fact, barely able to wait to get his mouth on his perfect prize. The head was dripping precum, and his mouth watered as he collected a drop on his finger and pulled it to his mouth to taste, unhindered by fabric this time.

“Too big for you to handle, baby boy?” Nnoitra asked, smirking down at the blue haired vixen between his thighs. He knew the boy could feel his cock throbbing in his hand, and it only served to make him harder.

Grimmjow just cocked his head to the side, that finger slowly falling from his lips, and smiled sweetly up at the man looking down at him. He licked his lips and drew in a deep breath before leaning forward, his lips brushing the tip of Nnoitra’s weeping cock.

“Not even close,” he whispered back, his breath rushing over the sensitive skin.

And then he proved himself very much correct, because Nnoitra’s hips were stuttering, and his breath was catching in his chest, and his hands were scrabbling at the sheets beneath them, and his cock was _completely engulfed_ in that perfect throat, all the tight, wet heat setting his body on fire.

Grimmjow allowed him a few seconds to get used to the feeling, smirking around the thickness in his mouth as Nnoitra fought to control himself. He ruined that attempt by swallowing slowly around the cock in his throat, sucking softly as he slowly pulled back. Looking up at Nnoitra, he released the head with a wet pop, holding it against his lips as he spoke.

“Still think it's too big for me, Daddy?” he asked coquettishly, grinning against the hardness at his lips.

Nnoitra stared down at him for a moment, chest heaving as he finally got control over his body once again. Oh yeah, he was keeping Grimmjow for a _long_ fucking time.

“Get the fuck up here, little boy,” Nnoitra growled out, hauling him up by his shoulders.

As soon as the boy was standing, he tightened his grip on those slim hips and yanked him forward, forcing him to straddle his lap.

His hold on Grimmjow’s hips was nearly bruising as he shifted his hips up to rub his hardness against the boy’s ass. Both of them groaned at the sensation, and Nnoitra knew he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer.

Flipping both of them over, he pinned Grimmjow’s wrists to his sides, moving his hips sensuously against the hardness pressing back at him. He leaned down to nip the boy’s throat one more time before pulling back.

“Keep your hands where they are,” he ordered lowly, watching Grimmjow nod even as his hips shifted in protest.

Nnoitra leaned over to his bedside table quickly, fumbling in the drawer before he managed to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“No condom,” Grimmjow said, a needy whine in his voice. “I wanna feel you fill me up.”

Nnoitra had to close his eye and take a deep breath before he managed to respond, just the thought of being able to fill the boy as Grimmjow screamed his name making him throb in anticipation. He leaned down and pressed a filthy, demanding kiss to those supple, needy lips before he answered.

“You're too sexy for your own good, little boy,” he managed. “You're clean?”

Grimmjow nodded, arching up against the hand that was trailing down his chest.

“Got tested last week,” he answered breathlessly. “You?”

“Got tested a few months ago, haven't been with anyone since. I'm clean.”

Grimmjow moaned, his fists clenching, but Nnoitra noted happily that he kept them where they were, as he'd been told to. Such a good boy, he really did deserve a reward.

“Hurry up and fuck me then,” the blue haired boy under him moaned, pressing his hips up tantalizingly, his body even more demanding than his words. Nnoitra almost caved and let the attitude slide.

Almost.

“That's not how you ask,” he reprimanded, his fingers flying up to pinch a nipple harshly, pleased when Grimmjow arched up and hissed in pain, even as his cock throbbed.

His attitude changed rather quickly.

“Please, Daddy,” he simpered, those blazing blue eyes absolutely begging him. “Stretch me open and fill me up and make me beg and scream your name.”

That was more like it.

“Much better, baby boy,” he praised.

And then all Grimmjow could focus on was the long finger pressing inside him, sliding smoothly in and out as the man above him watched his every reaction. He didn't even know when Nnoitra had uncapped the lube, much less slicked up his fingers, but he couldn't think as he felt a second finger pressing in alongside the first one.

They crooked, and Grimmjow keened as stars exploded behind his eyes. He forgot how to breathe for a second as the slightly unpleasant stretch was replaced with blinding pleasure; all he could do was feel.

The third finger brought more pain with it, but Grimmjow didn't even have time to register it, much less flinch, before they were pressing firmly into that little bundle of nerves, rubbing and sending shocks up his spine. He was whining and whimpering and gasping and all he wanted was Nnoitra's cock spearing into him and filling him to the brim.

He whined as those fingers pulled out, looking up at Nnoitra in protest, but his mouth went dry as he saw that long hand stroking over his cock, slicking himself up. Gulping, he couldn't stop his hips from shifting upwards, blushing furiously when Nnoitra shot him a grin.

Nnoitra’s dry hand gripped Grimmjow’s waist, holding him still as he guided his cock to that hot, twitching hole.

“You can move your hands if you need to, little boy, but no touching yourself,”  he whispered. “You might need something to hold onto for the ride.”

With that, and a lecherous grin that sent a shiver down Grimmjow’s back, he was sliding in, guiding the head of his cock past that tight rim and shuddering when he popped through. He pushed himself all the way forward until their hips were meshed together, lowering his forehead down to rest against Grimmjow's, trying to breathe and fight his instinct to just slam into that tightness until neither of them could stand.

Wiping his hand on the sheets to distract himself, Nnoitra shuddered out a sigh before looking down at the beautiful boy stretched out beneath him, stretched out around him. Blue eyes met with his, pleading for him to move, even as Grimmjow couldn't seem to get the words out through the fullness he felt.

He obliged, wrapping that trim waist with both hands and pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, nailing his prostate. Grimmjow threw his head back with a whine as his back arched, pleasure searing white hot up his spine as he writhed beneath the taller man.

“Fuck, take my cock so good, baby, like you're fucking made for it,” Nnoitra ground out, pulling his hips back and thrusting forward again.

Grimmjow was so tight around him, clenching and squirming and moaning as he cleaved into the boy’s body, not bothering to hold himself back at all. Seeing as Grimmjow seemed to revel in the rough treatment, Nnoitra gave him everything he had, pushing him to the limit just to see if he could take it.

And take it he did, like he was made for Nnoitra specifically, like there was nothing else that mattered in the world but clenching down over his cock like that.

“Fuck, Nnoitra, ‘m close,” he warned breathlessly, his hands finally coming up off the bed where he'd held them to clench at Nnoitra’s narrow shoulders.

Nnoitra moaned low in his chest at that statement, his hips grinding down into the body beneath him as his cock throbbed. He'd edge the boy later; right now, he was rushing towards his end as well, and he wanted to feel Grimmjow clenching around him before he filled him up.

Long fingers wrapped tightly around Grimmjow’s neglected erection, pumping strongly in time with his thrusts, and he leaned down to whisper in the man’s ear.

“Scream for me like a good little boy.”

He jerked on the man’s cock, twisting his fingers over the head and rubbing at the glans, just as he pounded straight into his prostate and ground his hips to drive his cock further into it.

And scream for him is exactly what Grimmjow did. His whole body spasmed and shook as he came harder than he ever had in his life, screaming incoherently. Nnoitra's hands tightened around his waist as he drove inside one last time, losing it at the feeling of that tight passage clenching rhythmically around him. He groaned loudly as his entire body tensed and he spilled inside Grimmjow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is... kinda finished but not, like, cohesively. I may put together a cute 'and they lived happily ever after' ending at some point, but for now it just stops after the smut.


End file.
